Just So You Know
by Dreaming-Of-A-Nightmare
Summary: Alex struggles with telling the person he likes that he, well, likes them. It's stupid, because he isn't a coward, but he does hate rejection and social crap, so what is he supposed to do? Well, Charles has an answer. .:. Alex/Hank, a.k.a. Halex. oneshot.


**A/N: Teratophilia on Tumblr said, "Hey, so I've been reading your fanfictions for ages and I think you're absolutely brilliant and a very talented writer. However, as a HUGE First Class/just general x-men fanboy, I feel like I have become addicted to "Halex" because I think it's the most adorable thing in all of existence, however there aren't many stories with them in it. I was wondering if you'd be willing to humour me with some fluffy Halex drabble. Perhaps where Hank and Alex are preparing to reveal their feelings to each other and are pleasantly surprised by the reciprocation? I'm not too good at prompts, so I apologise.  
>Thanks!"<strong>

**..And how could I refuse him?**

**So here's this. Enjoy!**

* * *

><p>Alex paces back and forth in his bedroom at the Xavier mansion, his socked feet heating up from the friction against the rug. He's nibbling on his cuticles of one hand, and the other is tucked tightly against his chest.<p>

It shouldn't be this hard, right? Telling someone how you feel, or even having the guts to _show _them what words might not cover— it's not difficult, right? You just have to… go in and do it. March up to them and prove it.

…Right?

But Alex isn't so sure. He's never been afraid of anything in his life, really, not after he was orphaned, not after he's been in prison for a while, but in this moment, he is genuinely terrified. He hates rejection. He also hates social interaction. He's horrible at it because of years of solitude in none other than solitary confinement, but this shouldn't be too bad, should it? It's just one person…

He grits his teeth and turns sharply on his heel to pound a fist into the wall. He retracts his hand, shaking it out of the shockwaves of pain, and cursing under his breath. Then, he punches the wall again, with his other fist this time, just because the rush of anger leaking out feels too good not to do again.

"…Alex?" comes Professor Xavier's voice through the door, a knock following after. "Are you all right? I could swear I heard thuds."

"'M fine, Professor," he snaps, cleary irritated. But mainly at himself and not the kind man who took him in.

Charles lets himself inside. "It doesn't seem like you are, m'lad. Come on then, tell me before I have to see for myself," and he's teasing, Alex knows, but that doesn't stop him from turning away as if he could hide his mind from the older mutant.

"It's nothing, okay? Just leave me be. Aren't you supposed to be resting up for tomorrow against Shaw—?"

"Yes, _we_ are, and that includes you. You need your rest as well, Alex. So please, if I can ease your mind so you can get it, then let me help you," Charles says kindly, and Alex sighs gruffly, dropping down onto the side of his bed.

Charles joins him, and they sit in silence for a moment. Then, "There's someone in the house I want to talk to, someone I want to know how I really feel about them before whatever happens tomorrow happens. And… and I want to not be such a coward about it, because that isn't _me, _but I can't help feeling like —"

"Like they might reject you," the telepath finishes quietly, and he places an understanding hand on Alex's shoulder. "Boy, do I ever know how _that_feels." He nods sympathetically, then looks into Alex's eyes. "But there is no need to fear it, Alex. You simply must let what will be _be, _and no matter how they feel, I'm sure you'll come out of it just fine. You're a strong boy. But if it will give you a little push, I'd like you to know that if you go tonight, it won't end badly at all."

And Charles stands, smiles, pats Alex's shoulder, and then starts to leave the room. But before he goes…

"You can find him in the lab; and I would go soon, because I think he's about to rush things before the right time."

And with that, Alex flushes (not on his face, but on the tips of his ears), and shakes his head, smirking a little, because dammit, the Professor always knows everything, even without peering into someone's mind (because Alex would have felt that, he's sure of it).

Clearing his throat, Alex heads for the laboratory and by the time he gets there, young Hank McCoy is studying a syringe in his hand, turning it over and over, most likely contemplating testing it out.

Alex dashes over to him, setting the syringe aside by taking it from Hank's hands, and hank gapes up at him, frowning slightly. "Alex? What are _you_doing here?"

"Sorry to interrupt your science-y stuff, Bozo, but there's just somethin' you gotta know."

And Hank's frowns deepens, his soft brown hair falling over his forehead as he inclines his head just an inch, clearly curious and waiting to hear whatever it is Alex has to say.

But Hank looks nervous, especially at the proximity, and seems to lick his lips anxiously and fiddle with his hands in his lap. His ape-like feet are bare and exposed on the cold floor, and a quick glance down at them almost seems to reassure Alex, because it's something he makes fun of, yes, but is secretly so fascinated by.

Looking into Hank's eyes — their eyes completely separate shades of blue, silvery meeting watery, both even different from the Professor's shockingly blue eyes — and then, slowly, Alex says it.

"I… er, I like you, Hank. It's dumb, but I do. I poke fun at ya, but I don't mean it. You're a good guy, you know? And I just… don't know how to show that I like you, so I do what I do instead. I just don't want you to be pissed at me before we, like, go to battle tomorrow."

And Hank looks surprised, jaw slack and eyes wide, his frown evaporated like water on a hot day, and his cheeks flushing pink. Then, slowly, he composes himself, coughs into his hand, looking down, and Alex spies a smile. A smile that grows and grows until Hank is _laughing._

Alex flares up from the inside, and he pushes Hank's shoulders, making his chair go backward. "What's so damn funny about that?" he barks, offended, and a little hurt.

Hank shakes his head, hands waving back and forth, and he stands, trying to smother his laughter. "No, no, it's not— not what you th-think, Alex, heh-heh, hahaha…" He takes a deep breath, and Alex notices that his face is_red _with embarrassment. "I just… I've been wanting to say the same thing to you for the past few days now. And for _you _to say it first when I thought for sure that you wouldn't accept my feelings— It's… ironic. Painfully ironic. So I'm laughing to keep from crying."

And then, suddenly, Alex is laughing, too, deeper and much more breathlessly, and he slaps a hand on Hank's back and slides is arm around Hank's taller shoulders, leaning in close. "Man, we are so pathetic."

"Very foolish, yes," Hank agrees, and he peers down at Alex, seeing mostly his profile, and his breath catches in his throat. He says quietly, "Although it got us this far, didn't it? Our foolishness?"

"Sure did," Alex agrees, his tone softer as he turns into Hank and leans up to kiss him.

Hank reacts instantly, hands gingerly touching Alex's sides as Alex cups Hank's face, sliding his glasses up to rest atop his head as he mashes their mouths together intensely but not without skill, and it leaves Hank a little more than breathless.


End file.
